


Reverse Psychology: Turmoil, or What Happens When the Dark Lord Is a Cup in a Vault

by azurecuisine



Series: Reverse Psychology -verse [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Severus is exasperated, just silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurecuisine/pseuds/azurecuisine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus fed the Dark Lord an apple poisoned with basilisk venom, but he’s not that easy to kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This is stupid. And silly. 5th year AU.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

He was in a dark room.  _A dark room for a Dark Lord._ He felt a giggle, but there was no sound in the dark room. He tried to move, but he was frozen in place.

He felt cold, and hard, and empty.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was dead.   _But that’s not possible. I am immortal!_

He struggles.  Eventually, he wobbles slightly.  He redoubles his efforts, finally falling down onto the floor.  A loud, metallic clang rings out in the room.

_Where am I?_

He was inside a vault.  And he was… _Hufflepuff’s goblet._

_SEVERUS!_


	2. Chapter Two, or How Harry Became the Next Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort is possessing Hufflepuff’s cup. The Death Eaters are lost without their leader. Luckily, they know just who to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Pinning down the timeline a bit more; this is pre-January during Year 5. Because I want it to take place before the DE breakout from Azkaban.
> 
> Warnings: This is stupid. And silly. 5th year AU. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

A chill ran up Severus’ spine.  He shrugged it off—the Dark Lord was dead, he’d burned the body himself, and after years as a double agent Death Eater, nothing would scare him like that again. There were more pressing matters to attend to, like the rather large serpent hissing menacingly at him.

“Nice Nagini.  Good snake,” he muttered, backing slowly out of the room and slamming the door as Nagini struck. Clearly, it was a mistake to investigate the Riddle house without his wand at the ready.  He wouldn’t even be here, except that Albus had insisted he look into the Dark Lord’s “disappearance.”

Honestly. His Evilness had come back  _wrong_ .  Probably that sniveling Wormtail’s fault; he must have made an error in the potion.   _And why He trusted Pettigrew to brew the potion, and not me…_ Of course, Severus wouldn’t have wanted to brew that potion.  It was just that his professional pride was injured.

_Maybe the Dark Lord didn’t come back wrong.  He was certainly making idiotic choices for years before that debacle._ No sane person drank  _unicorn_ blood, after all.  Or attached themselves to nervous DADA teachers.  Or spent a year plotting a truly ridiculous kidnapping, when Barty could have absconded with Potter at any point before that. But He would have His grand schemes. And not so grand.

_Poison apple. I cannot_ believe _He fell for that._

Severus had been gratified to see that the Dark Mark was already fading from his arm.  He’d received several panicked owls from Death Eaters, all of them trying to figure out what had happened  _this_ time.  Thus far, he’d fended them off with promises to investigate—after all, he was the spy in the Order’s ranks.  Lucius was getting rather pushy, however, and Severus knew he’d have to come up with an answer soon.

He needed an answer for Albus, as well.  All the old man knew was that Voldemort had seemingly vanished, and the Mark was fading too.    But Albus was convinced that only Potter could defeat the Dark Lord.  He’d never believe that Severus had taken him down with a venom-laced apple.

_Albus_ does _know that the Dark Lord has been inhabiting Potter’s dreams. And there’s his theory about love…_

Yes, that would be fitting.  He’d have to forge the notes, but that was simple enough.  The Dark Lord had spelled a Quick-Quotes Quill to write in His own handwriting, no matter who was dictating.  Now, if he could just find a way past that snake…

***

Albus looked over the pages of cramped calligraphy.  His eyebrows drew together, and he rubbed at his forehead.

“Voldemort was trying to discover the source of Harry’s power?”

“Yes. He was impressed with the boy’s strength, and disturbed by the way their wands interacted in the graveyard. As you can see, He believed that He could search Potter’s mind and steal the secret.  It is my theory that the amount of emotion in a fifteen-year-old boy overwhelmed Him, reducing Him to that pile of ash,” Severus said, nodding at the package of Dark Lord cremains on Albus’ desk.

“I see.” Albus poked at the ashes with his wand, and a puff of smoke rose up.  “And his snake?  I believe she was rather… dangerous.”

“I managed to trap her in a terrarium.  I believe Muggles who keep snakes as pets use them.  She seems content.”  At least, she seemed content after he fed her several large rats he’d found scurrying around the house.  And if one of those rats was missing a toe, and had squeaked furiously when he bound it to its form…  _No one will miss him. Least of all me._ Severus smiled, filled with satisfaction.

“Well, we must share the good news,” Albus said, eyes twinkling. “After all, Harry has now defeated Voldemort twice, both times without even trying.”

That  _did_ stick in Severus’ craw, just a bit, but in the end it didn’t matter.  He didn’t need the credit, he just needed to be done with the whole mess. Dark Lord dead, check. Potter lauded as a hero again, double check.  Death Eaters needed to be mopped up… Well, that wasn’t his problem anymore.  So long as he got this latest batch of brats through the end of the year, he was free to hole up in Spinner’s End and start up a mail-order potions business, and never deal with another annoying child or Dark Lord again.

***

_Lucius,_

_Dumbledore has informed me that the Dark Lord’s experiments in Potter’s mind are what overcame Him. He was burned up from the inside by Potter’s power.  I have seen His remains, and believe that Dumbledore is correct, distasteful as that is._

_I suggest that you consolidate your political power.  I plan to retire at the end of this year, although I will of course be happy to give Draco private tutoring in Potions._

_Respectfully,  
_ _Severus Snape_

***

Lucius crumpled the letter in his hand.  Of all the ridiculous, ignoble,  _irritating…_

Potter! It was always Potter. That damn boy was  _always_ in his way.  Outshining his son in school, tricking him into freeing his house-elf, even showing up in the box at the World Cup! There was no way Arthur Weasley would get tickets to the top box without his connection to the Potter boy.

The Potter boy, who had just destroyed the Dark Lord without lifting a finger. Again.

_Damn that brat._

With the Dark Lord well, and truly vanquished (and with Severus and Dumbledore both confirming it, it must be true), there was only one player left worth backing.

Lucius pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill (goose, because those were sturdy and gave the best ink flow and much more practical that peacock or swan or ostrich quills) and settled down to write the most difficult—second-most, the most difficult would be the letter to Draco telling him to play nice with Potter—letter of his life.

***

_~~Pott~~ _ _Dear Mr. Harry Potter,_

_It has recently come to my attention that you are right and the Dark Lord was wrong.  Henceforth, I shall your loyal ~~servant~~ ally. I would also like to express my love for the ~~mudb~~ Muggleborn witches and wizards and my fervent belief that they should be allowed to participate in all that the wizarding world has to offer._

_To that end, I would welcome any thoughts you may have on how to best encourage them to discover the best of our world.  Would you be available to meet during your Christmas holidays for tea?  There’s a lovely new shop in Diagon Alley. You are, of course, welcome to bring your “dog.”_

_Your friend,  
_ _Lucius Malfoy_

***

He was going insane.  That was the only explanation.  First Voldemort sends him a poison apple (and he still couldn’t believe that he’d actually fallen for that), then Voldemort sends Hermione some random flower and what was possibly a declaration of love,  _then_ he had a weird scar-ache/Voldemort dream about Snape giving him an apple that trapped him in a giant cup—or was he turned into a cup?—and now he was getting mail from Lucius Malfoy. 

Who apparently wanted to meet him for tea.  With Sirius.   _I’m starting to hate Saturdays._

Across the Hall, at the Slytherin table, Malfoy (the younger) was staring at him in shock.  He’d apparently gotten a letter from his father, too.  Harry gave him a halfhearted wave, too disturbed by his own problems to feel a sense of victory when Malfoy slammed his head on the desk.

Honestly, the only good thing about this morning was Umbridge fainting after receiving an official Ministry owl.

***

_My dear Dolores,_

_I am most grateful for your service as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. I am aware that it must have been difficult for you, as it was never an area of interest in your school days. It was most generous of you to step in while the Ministry searched for a more qualified and enthusiastic professor. Mr. Malfoy, who I know you hold in high esteem, has located a very qualified candidate and your replacement should be arriving late Sunday evening. This should give you plenty of time to gather your materials and return to the Ministry._

_I regret to inform you that the position of Senior Undersecretary had to be filled in your absence, but you will be heartened to know that your replacement is doing an admirable job. I am certain we will find a position where your skills will be useful, and your new title of Junior Assistant to the Census Bureau is strictly temporary._

_Yours,  
_ _Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, O.M. first class_

***

Severus heaved a sigh.  _Finish the year,_ he thought.  _Retire. Run a modest business out of my home. That’s all I wanted._ And instead, he was stuck here. Back in the Riddle house, because why go somewhere warm when there was a perfectly good derelict ruin available, observing a former-Death Eaters meeting.

_“We must be especially careful now, Severus.”  Ha! Easy for him to say._ He’s  _not the one freezing his feet into blocks of ice, listening to these idiots jockeying for power._ He’s _sitting warm and comfortable in his office, probably sucking on a lemon drop._

And Lucius, who had called for this meeting (forcing Severus to resume his role of spy once more), was late.  That was nothing new.  He’d been late the last time the Dark Lord vanished and the remaining Death Eaters gathered to decide what to do.

And at least this time, the worst of them were locked away in Azkaban.

He was nearly ready to disobey Albus—for the first time since he’d switched loyalties—when Lucius came sweeping in, mask tilted back on his head.  He looked rather like he’d been eaten something sour.

Of course the pompous ass came directly to him.

“Severus,” Lucius said, with the sneer that Malfoys learn in the cradle. “So good of you to join us. There is a matter that we need your help with.”

“And what might that be?  I have essays to grade.   _Some_ of us have jobs, and with Him gone—” Severus ignored the gasps; surely they remembered what it meant the last time their Marks faded? “—I really must endeavor to keep it.”

“But that is precisely why we need you,” Lucius said.  “He might be gone, but there is still a powerful wizard. We have discussed it—”

“Why was I not included in this discussion?”

I invited you!”  Lucius looked affronted. “I sent you an owl this morning asking if you’d care to join Narcissa and I for brunch!”

That familiar headache was starting up again. “My mistake.  Pray, continue.”

“We all agree that some of us haven’t been as… ah… Well, we’ve been somewhat unfriendly to him, and we need to make a fresh start.  And you are rather uniquely situated for that.”

“Me.”

“Yes,” Lucius said.  “But I’ve started to do what I can!  I got Fudge to demote Umbridge—”

“Why?”

“Draco has informed me on multiple occasions that Umbridge is exceedingly cruel to our Lord.”

“Our Lord is dead.”

“Our new Lord.  And I convinced the Board of Governors to rehire the werewolf—”

“For Merlin’s sake,  _why?”_

“Our Lord liked him.”

“Our Lord is  _dead!”_

“Our new Lord.  And I made a case for Weasley’s department—he seems to enjoy working with Muggles, and his department  _is_ crucial to the International Statute of Secrecy, so it really should be a more highly paid position—”

_“Lucius.”_

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing these things?  You had Umbridge appointed to Hogwarts in the first place, you hate werewolves, and you’ve never cared about Arthur Weasley’s department before.” Severus considered for a moment. “Although you are correct about its importance.”

“I will do whatever I must to gain our Lord’s favor.  All  _you_ need to do is get him to accept my invitation to tea over the holidays.”

_Please don’t let him be saying what I think he’s saying._ “Lucius… just who  _is_ the new Lord?”

Lucius looked surprised.  “I thought you knew. You told me how he defeated the false Dark Lord, after all.”  There were murmurs of agreement from the surrounding Death Eaters.  “Our Lord, Harry Potter!”

A cheer rose from the gathered men.

Severus felt shocked.   _I am_ surrounded _by idiots!_


	3. Epilogue, or How Harry Found Out He Was the New Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Death Eaters have decided to throw their lot in with Harry. They just have to let him know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don’t even know anymore. I think this story has a mind of its own. Somebody, save me.
> 
> Warnings: This is stupid. And silly. 5th year AU. DarkLord!Harry.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Malfoy was sending origami swans to him. They all had sketches.

Another swan nudged at Harry’s arm.  He pulled the paper open.  A…  _is that a penguin?_ bird of some sort was sitting in a yellowy-orangish pool of something.  Harry crumpled the paper and went back to ignoring Binns.

Malfoy huffed behind him, and sent a new swan floating at his head. A note.

_If you don’t like phoenixes, what_ are _you doing for a Mark?_

Harry rolled his eyes, scribbled back.

_A ferret riding a hippogryph._

The swans stopped, and Harry felt Malfoy glaring the rest of the class.

***

Goyle walked up to him hesitantly after class.  Harry waited for him to say something, but he didn’t seem to be in any rush.

Finally, Harry said, “Can I help you?”

Goyle held out a package, mutely.

Harry looked at it suspiciously.  “No offense, but I’ve had bad luck with mystery packages lately.”

Goyle’s eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip started to tremble. It was rather disgusting.

Harry tried to smile, took the grubby box.  “Thanks, Goyle,” he said weakly.

Goyle grinned.  “I vote for kittens. I like kittens. But whatever you want is perfect.” He ran off.

***

Parkinson and Zabini caught up to him together, dragged him into a side corridor on his way to Charms.

“I have some thoughts on robes,” Parkinson said.

“Do we have to do masks?” Zabini asked.  “Would a domino mask be acceptable?”

“Black is just so… basic.”

“Or something extravagant.  Carnevale masks?”

“I think a deep emerald.  You’d be dashing!”

“Masks could be fun, if we personalize them.”

“And the trim doesn’t  _have_ to be silver. Gold is in this season!”

“Just not that metal cage.  Ugh.”

“A really dark red  _might_ be acceptable.”

“Think about it!”

“Consult us!”

They left.

***

Harry was a little concerned when Crabbe sat next to him in Potions. Crabbe didn’t do anything, though—didn’t even make his own potion.

Harry watched him all through the class.

That was probably why he missed the warning signs in Ron’s potion.

It exploded, covering Ron and everyone around him in a sticky potion. Horns started sprouting everywhere… except on Harry.

Crabbe had acted with surprising speed, putting  _himself_ between Harry and the cauldron.  He made an effective shield.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“Grindylows,” Crabbe said.

“Sorry?”

“I like Grindylows for the Mark.  But whatever you decide is fine.”

***

“I refuse to get a ferret riding a hippogryph!” Malfoy popped out of nowhere, looking furious.

“What?” Harry was confused for a moment, then remembered the note from earlier.

“Anything else!  Just please, no ferrets or hippogryphs!”  His expression turned pleading.

“Erm…”

Before Harry could come up with a proper response, Nott shoved Malfoy into a wall and waved a fist in front of his face.  Malfoy squeaked.

“You don’t get to dictate to Lord Potter!”  Nott said.

Malfoy’s eyes went wide.  “I wasn’t! It’s a plea, that’s it!”

“Good.” Nott turned to Harry. “I vote for owls. My Lord.”


End file.
